


Look at the Stars

by flippantninny



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippantninny/pseuds/flippantninny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Beth somehow convinces Daryl to have a picnic by the pond in Alexandria (he remembers she mentioned summer picnics and caves), and then skinny dipping ensues." - blossoming-oak</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look at the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of changed the pond from a pond to a lake, because skinny dipping in a pond sounds... muddy? Anyway, it's short and fluffly and I hope you like it.

Two months. Two months since they had walked into Alexandria, two months since they’d found a new home, and two months since Beth had felt anything close to romance from Daryl. She had been willing to give him a pass for the first few weeks, it had been hard for all of them to accept that they might actually be safe, but it had been two months and they still hadn’t been on a date. Two months and they hadn’t had sex. They slept in the same bed and had dinner together, but it was clinical, a daily routine they had found themselves in. Beth was tired of getting up, going to work, coming home, cooking a boring meal, and going to sleep. Enough was enough, it was getting tiring. He had been more romantic on the road than he was these days, and romance on the road took effort, it should be easy now.

But if Beth had any chance of having a romantic evening with Daryl, she was going to have to take matters into her own hands. Daryl may be smart and caring, but he also tended to be very, very clueless.

“Where’s dinner,” Daryl said when he walked in from work that evening, looking at the empty spot on the table where there had been a dinner plate every day for the last sixty days.

“We’re goin’ out,” Beth replied.

“’s past curfew,” he replied.

“Fine, we’re sneakin’ out,” she corrected, grabbing the picnic basket she’d packed an hour ago and walking toward the door.

“We really ain’t mean to be out past curfew,” he said, standing hesitantly in the kitchen doorway. Great, leave it to Daryl to decide the rules are important _after_ the whole world has gone to shit,

“Oh,” she replied, “sorry, didn’t realise you were so crazy about the dumb rules, guess we better have a boring night in again instead.”

“Curfew ain’t a doubt rule, keeps us safe,” he replied.

Right, and that was the most important thing these days wasn’t it? Safety.

“Well, I’m sneakin’ out,” Beth replied, “you can come with me if you want, or you can stay here and be boring.”

It was a bluff, there was no point sneaking out if she was just going to be alone, but the shift in Daryl’s expression told her it was working.

“You ain’t goin’ out there alone,” he said.

“Guess you’d better join me than.”

He sighed and she smiled, because it was far too easy to get Daryl to so what she wanted.

“Fine, what did ya have planned?” he asked, exasperation clear in his tone but fondness clear in his eyes.

“Picnic by the lake,” she said, walking over to hip to peck him on the lips before almost running to the door, Daryl close behind, crossbow at hand.

 

* * *

 

“No pigs feet?” Daryl joked, when they reached the lake, a picnic blanket laid underneath them and peanut butter and jelly next to them.

“Nope, no diet soda either, but I _did_ manage to swipe this,” she said, pulling out a bottle of champagne.

“Where the hell did you get that?” he asked. The world might have gone to shit, but liquor laws were still a part of Alexandria’s legal system and Beth was still nineteen.

“Maggie owed me a favour,” she said, passing it to him to pop the top off, “whoa!” she said, as the top flew away from them into the lake, “it’s fizzy?”

Daryl snorted, which earned him a slap on the arm from Beth and a very angry glare.

“Excuse me for not having a vast history of drinking experience, not my fault we never had booze in the house,” she said.

“Sorry,” he replied, “’course it’s fizzy though, tha’s why they call it bubbly,” he said, passing the bottle back to her, “you never had champagne ‘fore?”

“Nah,” she said, as she poured a little into each of the glasses, “more of a moonshine girl,” she added, flashing him a knowing smile as she passed a glass to him a took a shy sip out of hers, “tastes funny,” she said, hiccupping and taking another longer sip, then resting her glass on the blanket between them and grabbing the peanut butter, twisting at the lid then glaring at it as it remained stubbornly shut, before hiccupping again.

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.

“What?” she said, looking up at his amused expression.

“Nothin’. You’re cute when you hiccup.”

Even in the dark he could see her cheeks light up red. Those were the best moments, the moments to be would always hold on to, the moments when a second of honestly could make Beth Greene light up like a firetruck.

“Want me to get that?” he asked, nodding to the jar in her hands.

“Nah, I got it,” she replied, trying again. He should have known that the only thing more stubborn than a stubborn lid on a stubborn jar was a Greene on a mission. Even if that mission was just opening a jar of peanut butter.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” she replied, using her shirt to try grip the jar and lid better but still failing, then trying again by gripping the jar between her legs and using both hands.

He laughed when she pulled his old hunting knife out of her belt, but decided that was probably a good moment to intervene. A knife slipping on the glass and chopping off her fingers would probably ruin the mood of the evening.

“Here,” he said, plucking the jar from her hands and effortlessly twisting the lid off.

“Hey, I said I would get it,” she said, glaring at him.

“Sorry,” he replied, reaching into the basket to grab a spoon for her, but she was already licking peanut butter off her fingers, hiccupping when he looked up, so he dropped the spoon and grabbed the jelly instead.

“Jerk,” she said, as he popped the lid off the jelly and stuck his fingers in the jar.

He watched, licking jelly off his fingers, as she poured some more champagne into her glass then downed the drink in one.

“Slow down,” he said, sticking his fingers back in the jelly.

“I’m fine,” she said, “I can handle moonshine, I think I can handle a little fancy, fizzy booze. Give me some jelly,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling it up to her mouth.

The image of Beth sucking grape jelly off his middle finger was one he’d probably never forget.

And the moan he felt her let out around his finger wasn’t a sound he was likely to forget either.

“Want some peanut butter,” she asked, waving her fingers at him after she finished cleaning off his finger.

“Let me catch up with you first,” he said, finishing his glass of champagne and grabbing the bottle from beside her, did his voice always sound that husky? And were they actually already half way through the bottle? He’s only had one little glass, no wonder she was sucking his fingers off.

Yeah, he definitely needed more booze in him.

“Oi,” she said, another hiccup escaping her lips, as he took a swig straight from the bottle, “save some for me.”

“Think you’ve had enough,” he said, putting the bottle, knocking at against his bow as he did. When he looked back up she was staring at the weapon, the laughter in her expression all gone.

“You didn’t have to bring that along, you know,” she said. He felt a lump start to grow in his throat a little. Hadn’t he just been thinking about lucking peanut butter off her fingers? Couldn’t they go back to that?

“Yeah I did,” he replied. He couldn’t go anywhere without it. Especially with Beth. He’d made the mistake of not picking it up before; he wasn’t about to do it again.

“Why?” he really wanted her fingers in his mouth right now.

He shrugged. How could he tell her that the last time he let himself forget his crossbow, she ended up in a hospital in Atlanta and she might be safe now but she still had that scar on her cheek. It didn’t take away from her beauty at all, she was still his favourite thing to look at, always would be, it just added another story to her face. But it was a reminder that he had let himself get too comfortable before, a story of his failure, and he couldn’t fail her again.

“Don’t feel right without it.”

“We’re safe here,” she said, lifting her fingers to her lips and licking the peanut butter off them. Shouldn’t those fingers be in his mouth right now? He didn’t even like peanut butter but there were few foods he wouldn’t lick off Beth’s fingers.

“Are we?”

“I like to think so.”

“Last time I thought we was safe I lost you.”

They definitely weren’t going back to sucking each other’s fingers now.

“Oh.”

Then, after a thick second of silence, she leaned forward, cupping his face in her hand. It was soft and sticky against his stubble. All he could smell was peanuts.

“Hey,” she said, locking her eyes on his, “you found me, and I ain’t going anywhere, I promise.”

Maybe they were safer, maybe there weren’t any cars waiting to pull her out of his life again, and maybe they could relax a little, but it would take more than a maybe for him to stop fighting to keep her safe.

But he nodded, because maybe some moments he could let his guard down a little. Keep the crossbow within arms reach, but let it slip from his mind for a few minutes.

She leaned forward, quickly kissing his lips, chaste and gentle, and then she leaned back again, grabbing the champagne bottle from beside him and taking a swig.

“We should play a game,” she said, letting out another hiccup, her tone back to light and playful. He would ever understand how she could do that, switch from playful to serious to playful again in a split second, leaving him with whiplash in her wake.

“No.”

“C’mon, it’s fun.”

“Weren’t fun last time.”

“Maybe not, but it got us where we are now,” she said, smiling at him. Of course Beth could finding a silver lining in that fight. She was right though, every step that had got them to where they were, as painful as they might have been, was worth it.

She lifted the bottle to her lips, taking a sip, then said “you ready to play, Mr. Dixon?”

“Can’t play if you finish all the booze ‘fore we start,” he replied.

“Screw you,” she said through a smile, “c’mon, play with me Daryl.”

He sighed, and she smiled, and he felt like maybe this was becoming a thing they did too often, him sighing and her smiling and him giving in and her winning. But he had no idea how to stop it.

“Sure,” he said, if Beth wanted to go for a picnic, they went for a picnic. If Beth wanted to play ‘I Never’, they played I never.

“I never been skinny dipping,” she said, holding the bottle out to him.

“You ain’t too good at this game,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked, still holding the bottle out to him.

“Drink up,” he said, pushing the bottle back to her.

“What, you’ve never been skinny dipping either?”

“Nope.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Okay,” she said, lifting the bottle to her lips and taking a long sip, “let’s change that,” she said, passing the bottle back to him and hiccupping again.

“Beth, what’re you doing?” he said, trying to keep his tone casual as her hands grabbed the bottom of her shirt, “shit Beth stop,” he said, all casualness gone from his voice as her shirt landed next to him and he glanced around, making sure no one was near.

“Daryl, calm down, it’s past curfew, no one else is out,” she said, kicking her boots off as he stood up, picking her shirt up and holding it out to her.

“Put it back on,” he said, the worry and concern in his voice completely opposing the playful lightness of hers.

“Take yours off,” she replied, smiling at him as she started shimmying out of her jeans.

“Beth this isn’t fucking funny, anyone could walk out here,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper, but she was backing away from him, almost skipping, in nothing but her underwear, facing him as she walked backwards towards the lake.

“You know this would be a lot more fun if you joined me,” she said, practically dancing across the grass.

“I don’t give a shit what’s funner, Beth, someone might see ya,” he said, his voice still in that urgent whisper.

“Funner ain’t a word, Daryl,” she said, gasping as her feet hit the water and her eyes widened at the cold.

“Ain’t ain’t a word, Beth,” he replied, reaching down to grab her jeans as he walked towards the water.

She laughed, that completely Beth laugh, free of any malice or cruelty. It was a refreshing laugh. Daryl’s whole life the only laughter he had heard had been the result of a taunt or cruel joke. Every time someone had laughed it had always been at someone else’s expense. And then Beth laughed, and all he heard was sunshine. Pure goodness. Laughter because a joke was funny, not because someone was being laughed at. He’d never understood the whole ‘laugh with someone, not at someone’ thing until he met Beth. The only person Beth laughed at was herself.

He sighed, watching her walk further into the water until it was covering up to her waist, and he turned around, grabbing the champagne and taking a sip before dropping her jeans and her shirt and shrugging his vest of his shoulders.

He could almost sense her smiling as he stripped down to his boxers.

She was floating in the water when he turned around, her arms and legs spread out, staring up at the stars.

“Fuck,” he said as he stepped in the water. She must have had a decent amount to drink, because the water was freezing and she didn’t seem to even notice, “aren’t ya cold?” he asked as he walked deeper into the water, trying to ignore the way the cold forced the air from his lungs.

“A little,” she said, turning round from floating to treading water, looking back at him, “it’s refreshing,” she added, before leaning back and floating in the water again. “Come look at the stars with me, Daryl Dixon.”

Refreshing was a cold shower. This was just painful.

“You’re crazy,” he said, as the water got deep enough that he couldn’t walk, and instead had to swim towards her.

“Mhmm, but you’re crazier,” she said, still staring up at the sky as he reached her.

“Why’s that?” he asked, as he leant back and tried to copy her, to lay on the water like she was, but he had never been a water bug, had always preferred a walk in the trees to a swim, and floating wasn’t exactly a skill he possessed.

“’Cause you love me,” she said, gracefully back to treading water again and smiling at him as he tried to float, “here, you have to lie still,” she said, pushing him back a little.

He laughed, trying again to float but failing and returning to treading water with her.

She was wrong though. He did love her, but that wasn’t what made him crazy. If anything it was the only thing keeping him sane. Loving her was one of the only sane things he was doing these days. He could be on the road killing walkers every day, or hidden away in a boxcar, or running all night after a black car with a white cross on the back, or swimming at night in his underwear in the middle of a safe zone, and the only thing that would always make sense was his love for Beth.

Her love for him, that was the crazy part. That was the bit that never made sense. Everyone who met Beth fell a little in love with her, he wasn’t exceptional for loving her, the exceptional part was that she felt the same way about him. But he’d given up fighting it a long time ago. Gifts were rare these days, especially ones as life changing as Beth’s love.  _You can keep on telling yourself you don’t deserve it, or you can accept it and enjoy the happiness, because we don’t all get the chance to be happy anymore, so when someone gives you their heart you accept it and give yours back, wholeheartedly._ That’s what Rick had said, the night after they found her. That’s what Daryl said to himself every night he started doubting it. _Don’t question it, just accept it for as long as she’s willing to give it_. And everyday he was more surprised that she was still willing to give it. And every day it became a little easier to accept.

“That don’t make me crazy though,” he said, looking at her as they bobbed together in the water, “I’d be crazy not to love you,” he said.

“I’d be crazy not to love you too,” she said, kicking herself towards him and tangling her fingers into his hair, pulling him into a clumsy, unbalanced, uncomfortable, loving kiss.

He closed his eyes, reminding himself that his arms were needed to keep them afloat, and wrapping them around her was not an option, when something bright flashed over his eyes.

She pulled away from him, staring at the grass where, beside their blanket and basket and clothes a man stood, staring straight back at them, a flashlight in his hand pointed straight at them.

“Curfew was three hours ago,” he yelled at them, “y’all need to go back to your rooms.”

Daryl was ready to swim back and apologise and run back to their rooms like puppies with their tails between their legs, like teenagers caught making out behind the bleachers or kids caught up past bedtime, playing games in their room while they should be sleeping, but then Beth started giggling beside him.

He turned to look at her, she was lying on her back again, still giggling while the man on the grass stared at them, unsure what to say.

“Sorry,” she said, quiet enough for only Daryl to hear, “just, do you think he’ll send us to the principles office,” she said, leaning forward to tread water beside him again, her smile filling her face, lighting up her eyes, “do you think he’ll call Rick and Michonne and tell them their kids have been misbehaving,” her voice got less steady as she spoke, giggles threatening to break through with every word “do you think we’ll get grounded,” she added before bursting into a fit of giggles again, losing her balance and wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself in the water.

And fuck it, this _was_ funny. The guy on the shore was still yelling about how they had to swim back and go to bed, and the world had fallen apart outside the Alexandria walls but somehow, right now, to this poor guy, two idiots in a lake were the biggest concern in the world. And the stars really were bright that night, and he hadn’t been this far from his crossbow in months, and Beth was laughing beside him, her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, and this was _so_ funny.

And maybe he’d had more champagne than he thought.

And maybe Beth was right about everything, maybe they were safe. Maybe they weren’t. But maybe sometimes it really didn’t matter.


End file.
